#me too bruno

[i-eat-mass-blog]

ITS THE DAY

its THAT day

[gazpachoandbooks]

Currently imagining Arthur + Gwen + the knights asking someone (maybe druids?) who this famous "Emrys" is and they proceed to do a version of "We Don't Talk About Bruno" while Arthur, Gwen and the knights grow increasingly more distressed with each line and Merlin hyperventilates in the background

[chloesimaginationthings]

Cropped Patreon Requests

[corpsoir]

let's celebrate the fictional italian man's birthday

oldest 21 year old in italy

[figcookie01]

finals are over which means i get to do what i love most: drawing the bob

[ask-the-totally-real-peppino]

don't worry Pep, i'm sure you'll figure out those memories in due time. maybe for now you should take it easy. we just want to make sure you're doing okay first.

Pep: "Struh daeh ym nehw yllaicepse, sgniht fo tol a dnatsrednu t'nod I tub... Dnatsrednu I fi erus ton... M'I..."

Pep: "Sdneirf htiw retteb rebmemer pleh nac... Oot ti ees nac sdneirf taht ecin elttil a si ti tub..."

Peppino: "Here Pep."

Peppino: "Might as well-a join you for floor time for a bit."

Peppino: "Bruno...? I don't-a personally know a Bruno, but now that I think about it; the building I came out of after the fight with Pep was-a called 'Bruno Pizza'."

Peppino: "I didn't think of it much at the time - since I had just ran for my life, being chased by a giant, warped version of myself - but it was kinda odd... Why did he put a random restaurant in the tower...?"

Pep: "..."

Pep: "..."

Peppino: "What the- Pep...?"

Pep: "...!"

Peppino: "Pep!"

Pep: "!!!"

Peppino: "Woah, woah, easy there Pep! You got pretty-a lost in your thoughts again!"

Pep: "Xob ni edih! Xob ni edih ot evah! Hcum oot s'ti! Wonk t'nod I Kniht I- Ot deil-! Dekcirt saw-! Eh- I- Si ti ohw wonk t'nod I-I-! Niaga em was I-? Niaga mih was I- I-"

Peppino: "S-slow down, Pep, I can't-a understand what you're saying! Let's-a take some breaths, so I can help you."

[bacchuschucklefuck]

if talking abt my friends after looking at another artist's work is gauche then Im about to take a hard left babeyy if chris grace's dropout special speaks to u and u like dnd actual play then u should watch metanoia blues live on twitch every sunday at mimzalot and also available on youtube at metanoia blues

[then0rthernstar]

I have a problem, not being able to draw because of school, this song, and the idea I had a month ago of Lance and Bruno in moon and sun themed outfits.

[nyupuun]

LEVEL 5 SYNCHRO

[ciipher-arts]

Oh my god just kiss already you two

[ilikebobcuts642]

Fuck it bro, Trans Bruno

I hc that he has an extremely androgynous voice that helped him transition (without needing t or surgery) in the long run

(I’m a trans man btw so please don’t turn this into something weird. This post is basically self-therapy to me, nothing else.)

[starlightiing]

NOT a fic, just a blurb. Pierresteban and 'frantic' 'desperate' or 'gentle' !

Pierresteban Request || Accepting!

Esteban does not panic. It simply isn't written into his blood like it is for some people. He works tirelessly on his mentality alongside his physical training to make sure he stays alert, focused, and able to roll with the punches that are inevitably going to be thrown his way at the dawn of a new race weekend.

He does not panic.

So its obvious to him that he is clearly not panicking when Pierre comes into the nearly-empty garage later that night looking for him. His elevated heart rate and shallow breathing will pass in time, just like they always do. He doesn't understand why Pierre looks at him with so much concern in those usually bright, sparkling blue eyes, or why he's being held up in arms that are familiar and yet oh so painfully unfamiliar at the same time. He can't understand why Pierre is speaking right in front of him but it sounds like he's miles away.

When did his body start trembling?

When did his face and hands begin to tingle?

"-teban?" Pierre's voice filters in and out, but the sound of his name is enough to grab his attention. He looks up at Pierre and - wait - why does he need to look up?

"-ban, look at me." Pierre's voice fills his head again, blessedly louder than the violent and frantic thumping of his heartbeat in his ears. Esteban is on the floor of the garage, Pierre's arms helping to hold him steady, with his gaze desperate and concerned as he makes firm eye contact with Esteban. "That's it. Don't look away."

"Why - why would I -?"

"Shh, not yet. We are breathing now. Deep breaths."

Deep breaths. Sure, Esteban can manage some deep breaths. Of course, it's only now that he realizes he's been hyperventilating for the past five minutes and suddenly the tingling in his hands and face make sense.

For fuck's sake, he's actually panicking.

"Pierre, I -"

"Ah, ah, breathing. Tell me after."

Esteban nods curtly, still feeling oddly detached from his own body as he processes the fact that he is panicking. His hands are shaking, his heart is racing almost nearly as fast as it does when he's driving - the rhythm so frantic and desperate that it almost hurts as it drums away in his chest. His breaths are shallow and quick, and he knows Pierre is right. He has to breathe, nice and deep and calm. He has to hold the air in his lungs a few seconds and let it out slowly, and continue this process until his body gets the message and calms itself down.

And Pierre is nothing if not thorough and on point. Esteban cannot find the rhythm himself so Pierre creates one for him, breathing in the exact pattern he wants Esteban to follow. Esteban watches Pierre's chest rise and fall slowly and finally decides to give it a shot on the third repetition. He breathes, following Pierre like a lost puppy, until he can manage to hold the rhythm on his own.

"There you go, you will be okay now." Pierre says gently, and though Esteban feels like he's just run a marathon and an endurance race combined, he nods.

"Thank you," he replies, once he finds the strength to use his voice again. "I don't know what happened-"

"I do." Pierre interjects, tossing Esteban a sad smile. "But we'll talk about that later. Right now, let's get out of this garage and back to the hotel."

Esteban nods.

Yeah, yeah. He will be okay now.

[thatcakelovingwitch]

I‘m a bad jojos fan, i thought bruno and abbachio are like 30+ what do you mean they are 20?!!

HOW?!! Like wha-

[corpsoir]

post zucchero fight etc ahah .

[coochellati]

Carnal Inhibitions

18+ ONLY

Pairing: Bruno Bucciarati x gender-neutral reader

Summary: Bruno takes on a submissive role, granting you total control over him.

Genre: Kinky-ass Smut

Content: Inappropriate use of stands, Bruno Bucciarati is a messy sub, overstimulating, edging, aftercare.

Word Count: 1,042

{Read on AO3!}

Drenched in sweat, the imperturbable underboss of Passione trembles under your touch, gasping as if he were fighting for his life. Eyes scrunched shut beneath furrowed brows, he reflexively attempts to cover his gaping mouth with his hand, but it's no use--the rope binding his wrist prevents him from reaching that far. His meticulously styled bangs now cling to his forehead in soaked clumps, the flashy gold clips holding his braid in place gradually sliding out of his hair.

Bruno Bucciarati is a fucking mess.

"Cazzo, m-merda--" he stammers, shooting you a frantic stare before throwing his head backward, letting out a filthy, guttural moan as his body abruptly jolts forward. "Please just let me--"

A frustrated groan escapes him as you suddenly release him and his stand from your grasp. He scrunches his eyes once more as he struggles against the ropes tethering him to his bed, but quickly resigns himself to his fate—he isn't going anywhere. He shoots you a distressed stare.

"I can't--I don't--I don't know how much more of this I can--" he desperately stutters, choking on his breath.

"What, can't handle a bit of pleasure?" you tease, a smirk plastered across your face.

"A bit of pleasure?" His voice shakes. "That's what you call it? This is torture! Ah--!" Bruno lets out a distraught whine as you begin caressing him with your thumbs, one for each tip. He's hot to the touch, cock flushed a deep shade of red.

"Oh, come on--you're a mafioso, you can handle it. Besides, I know you're enjoying this. If you weren't, you would have unsummoned Sticky Fingers by now," you smugly retort. He sharply inhales through gritted teeth as you resume your movements on him and his stand. 

"Too much, this is too much—" he whines, as the phantom sensations and tangible pleasure mix together, creating an unbearable amount of stimulation. You anticipate him to follow up with the safe word the two of you had chosen, but he doesn't, validating your previous claim.

Heartbeat pounding in his face, Bruno tenses, once again approaching climax. "Please--p-please let me cum," he begs, voice strained with hysteria. You can tell he's close--with an evil smile, you abruptly stop all movements, swiftly withdrawing your hands from him.

'Ah--Cazzo!' he cries out, releasing a prolonged, pained groan. With wide eyes, he stares at the ceiling, his lip trembling. He shuts his eyes, and the floodgates open—tears stream down his face, his thick, dark eyelashes clumping together. Each breath he takes is shaky, accompanied by soft sniffles. "I—I can't," he manages between gasps for air, his voice barely audible. "P-please, I can't..." The rest of his words dissolve into unintelligible jibberish.

You chuckle lowly, wiping away his tears. "I don't think I've ever seen you cry like this." Drawing your face close to his, you gently brush back his sodden bangs as he continues to weep. Finally, you give him a tender kiss on the forehead. "Alright—you've been good. I'll let you come." 

"T-thank you," Bruno chokes out, gulping as you continue massaging him and his stand with slow, deliberate strokes. With his mouth hanging agape, he emits a constrained gasp, his face intensely contorted in agonizing pleasure. His heart feels as if it's about to give out; a string of Italian expletives disjointedly spills from his mouth as he forcefully presses the back of his head into the mattress, body stiffening. 

"I'm going to--" his words are abruptly cut off by a sharp gasp, eyes widening as he tumbles over the threshold, vision fading to black as ecstasy engulfs his body. A loud, shameless groan fills the room, and his consciousness explodes into a flaming blast, body violently jerking as his senses become consumed by intense, rippling shockwaves. Pulsing in your hand, he releases, spilling out onto himself and the bedsheets surrounding him. 

With one final moan, he crumbles apart, his body going limp. Still in shock, he pants heavily, eyes quickly darting around the room in an attempt to make sense of his surroundings.

"Merda," he chuckles, still out of breath. A smile forms on his face. "That was intense."

"And you handled it so well," you warmly praise and begin stroking his hair, unfazed by its warm dampness. He lets out a content sigh as he sinks into the bed, body melting at your touch. The two of you sit still for a few seconds, savoring the moment before you reach for the baby wipes you had set on the nightstand in preparation for the events that had just occurred. "Here, let me clean you." He watches as you wipe away the mess on his torso, your touch delicate. 

Once finished, you cradle his jawline, eliciting a soft smile from Bruno. His deep, half-lidded eyes lock onto yours as you lean in close, noses touching. "I love you, Bruno."

"I love you, too," he whispers gently, releasing a singular, happy chuckle before pressing his warm lips against yours. A blissful haze descends, clouding your senses as the faint light from the flickering candle on the nightstand casts elongated shadows of both of you on the wall opposite. Everything around you is still, quiet, and calm.

Gently pulling away, Bruno lightly tugs at the ropes. "Care to untie me?"

"Oh—right, of course," you say, slightly flustered. He patiently waits as you release each limb.

Finally free, he sits up and rolls his wrists around, closing his eyes as he lets out a long exhale of relief. With one hand, he pushes back his hair and turns his head towards you, silently mouthing, "Thank you." You nod in acknowledgment and flop onto the bed, resting on your back.

"Oh, fuck," you mutter, realizing you hadn't checked where you decided to lie down. "We're going to have to wash the bedding."

He smiles in amusement, leaning over you. "Yeah, but not yet."

"Huh? Aren't we going to sleep somewhat soon...?--OH!" Surprise flashes across your face as Bruno suddenly pins you down. The sound of a zipper tickles your ears as you become securely fastened to the bed.

With a smirk on his face, he looks down at you. "What? You think you're off the hook?" He chuckles softly, shaking his head. His eyes narrow. "Your turn."

[brumiramybeloathed]

A brumira idea I've had is, what if Bruno actually left the Encanto after Mirabel's ceremony and then Mirabel left the Encanto after Antonio's?

I've seen both of those floating around, and I've even seen a Brumira story where Bruno left the Encanto and then Mirabel decides to leave when she's 17/18 and they meet up at a bar.

But. I'm thinking something that sort of combines the two.

When Bruno leaves, he takes very little with him. Some changes of clothes, some food he pilfers, and that last vision. He hikes over the mountain and settles in the first town he comes across, not wanting to be too far, but not willing to stay. As a Madrigal, he helped the community in a variety of different ways, so he is skilled enough to make a living. So he does. Eventually, he settles on wood working, carpentry. He gets to be artistic and he gets to make things that actually help people, unlike his visions.

Mirabel, 10 years later, pushed aside by her family over concerns of the magic and her lack of gift and other issues, leaves. No one besides Abuela Alma knows he had a vision, as he took it with him and met no one on the way out. So. The day after Isabella's engagement to Mariano, two days after Antonio's birthday, Mirabel packs a bag with a change of clothes, some food, and some of her sewing supplies. She'll need to support herself after all.

So she walks to the next town over and talks to the tailors and seamstresses about someone hiring her on as an assistant or apprentice. Mirabel shows them her work on her clothes, offers to demo her skills, and most turn her away except one. This one calls Bruno over, as Bruno is good at reading people, even after all this time of not using his gift.

Bruno puts down his tools, comes over and talks to her. About her home life, where she's from, why this town, etc. And he recognizes her as Mirabel, his niece. But she says her name is Veronica Mortize.

So. Two weeks after she arrived at the town and she became the apprentice for one of the seamstresses, Bruno finally finds time to talk to her in private.

So she spills that, yes, her name is not Veronica Mortize, it's Mirabel Madrigal. She talks of her family's gifts, how she didn't get one, how things just got worse and worse for her as everyone grew tired of her being in the way and in the middle of things and she grew tired of everyone leaving her behind. So she left to make a name for herself.

Then Bruno tells her his story. His name, his gift, how everyone treated him. They commiserate over food Mirabel makes that reminds them both of Julieta's cooking.

3 Years go by. The two are busy, providing for themselves and holding down jobs in a town far busier than Encanto, but they meet up every month or so and catch up. Then it moves to meeting every two weeks. Then once a week.

Mirabel tosses out the idea of them living together first.

"We are family after all. That wouldn't be weird, and we would both save a lot of money and be far less lonely."

And. Well. Who is Bruno to argue with saving money?

But he also notices that they sit close together on the couch. That they sit next to each other at the table. That everyone around them thinks they are in a romantic relationship and most don't even know the two live together.

Bruno then notices the odd touches they give each other, across the shoulders, down the back, on the arms and legs. Bruno notices that Mirabel will sometimes look at him longer than perhaps a niece should look at her uncle. And he catches himself on more than one occasion looking at her longer than an uncle should look at his niece.

So they talk about it. It is an awkward, stilted conversation of uncomfortable realizations and begrudging agreement to not go further. They don't look each other in the eye for weeks afterwards. They try to keep their distance from each other. Meal times are quiet and suffocating. People and neighbors and coworkers wonder if they're fighting.

No. Not really. Just trying to reestablish the normal boundaries that family members should have between each other.

They break down three months after The Conversation. They cling to each other, the only comfort they have in a (not so) foreign land, the only comfort they have away from home, away from family. They agree that distance was not helping and that a certain amount of damage has already been done. So long as they don't cross more boundaries, they should be fine.

They keep this up for over a year. Soon, Mirabel is 20. Bruno is 55.

And both are done with the boundaries they upheld for several years now.

They get married with a small ceremony at the local church, using Mirabel's fake name and Veronica Mortize becomes Veronica Madrigal.

3 years later, a rider comes from over the mountain in search for Bruno Madrigal and Mirabel Madrigal. Alma Madrigal is dying and has requested that someone send news to them so she can see them in her final days.

Bruno and Mirabel have a serious conversation about the family, how they would react, was it wise to return as a married couple or should they hide it?

"Mirabel, neither of us are good pretenders, and both of us are already outcasts in that village. What good would hiding do?"

They decide to brave the backlash, Mirabel talks to the lead seamstress about a leave of absence, and Bruno closes his shop. Neighbors and friends wave them goodbye as they head to a mountain that has split down the middle, back to a place neither thought they would ever see again.